Nightfall
by WH1T3R4V3N
Summary: He survived. Weak, yes. In pain, yes. But alive nonetheless. Herobrine still lives and is itching to take revenge on the one foolish mortal that caused him such agony. Sequel to "Take Back The Night".
1. Pain

**This fanfiction is my version of the aftermath to "Take Back The Night", a Minecraft music video by CaptainSparklez. I've been wanting to write this for a while, so I'm afraid "Herobrine Rising II" is just going to have to wait. In the mean time, feel free to PM me with any ideas, suggestions or OCs for any of my stories! I'd love to hear them and will try my best to include them.**

**As always, leave a review if you enjoyed :)**

* * *

**Pain**

Walking. He had to keep walking. Keep going despite the torrid wash of crimson spilling down his chest, glinting in the pale half-light of the moon. The pain was unrelenting; He let out an animalistic growl of discomfort as another wave of agony pulsed through him. It was so tempting - to lie down, to sleep, perchance to dream. To keel over and let the comforting blackness consume him. He couldn't stop though. Not when he was so close to-

_Just keep walking._

The rough emerald green hood slipped down over his face so he angrily shook it off, the cloak it was attached to billowing out behind him. The man was aware that - without the covering hiding his eyes - he could be spotted and recognised easily, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It didn't matter anymore.

_Only one thing matters._

As clear as day the memory returned, unbidden, unwanted, causing him to grit his teeth in rage. His foe. So weak, so hopelessly outclassed, yet-

* * *

_He's arrived…_

_It's all under control…_

_I have him…_

_He is no match for me…_

_Now, I…_

_Wait…_

_No…_

* * *

The figure growled again, reliving the indignation of having being brought down by a lesser creature than he. How? He had held all the cards, planned everything out down to the tiniest detail, but his arrogance had gotten the better of him. Well, he wouldn't make that mistake again.

Lights up ahead. Any mortal would have been overjoyed to catch a glimpse of the murky artificial glow through the spindly trees, but not him. Lights meant houses. Houses meant people. And people… If they caught a glimpse of him in this state, he could well be killed. If that was even possible; He didn't know, and had no intention of finding out.

_Better avoid any confrontation for now. As much as I would enjoy bringing about the end to this worthless settlement, I am not sure I would have the strength. It is best the humans do not see me like this - They might nurture some foolish notion of taking me down._

_I am the mythical Herobrine, after all._

Taking him down. Just like…

* * *

_He could see the intruder now, tall and powerful, but naive with it. Blonde hair swept back by a tattered green ribbon, the last remaining link to his archaic, obsolete clan. Herobrine couldn't fail to notice the determination on the younger man's face though, a fiery resolve to exact revenge on his mentor's killer. The child had come so far, had prevailed against such overwhelming odds in the quest for retribution, and had succeeded where so many had failed. He was brave - strong and determined, the being had to respect that._

_He was brave, and that entitled him to a fair fight._

_Well, as fair as one can get when fighting a God._

* * *

It had seemed like a sure victory, but Herobrine had allowed his fervid imperiousness to blind him. He had allowed the mortal a fighting chance, and that had been a mistake. In fact, it had been a dreadful oversight to let the child live in the first place, to leave him lying broken in the smoking ruins of his father's kingdom. No matter. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.

Herobrine had strayed off the weathered gravel path in the hopes of avoiding the wretched settlement up ahead, and so far his plan seemed to be working. Not sensing any threats nearby, Herobrine forced his eyes to glow intensely bright, fading up from a dull glimmer to two powerful orbs that cut through the gloom with ease.

_All I need is a safe place to rest for the night. But not here. Nowhere close to-_

The ground under Herobrine's feet gave way and he found himself skidding down a sharp decline, the wound in his back stretching and splitting open. The earth became stained with red as he tried, and failed, to arrest his descent; The pain was becoming too much to bear. After what seemed like an age, he finally slid to a halt, breathless, arms curled protectively over the hideous, gaping laceration.

_No…_

Herobrine knew that even his superior body wouldn't be able to take such strain. He could feel himself shutting down, preparing to begin the long, arduous healing process he so hated. But the village was so close by; What if he was discovered?

There was no use worrying about that now.

Darkness started eating away at his vision, numbness flooding his scraped, leaded limbs.

He welcomed it.

Herobrine's eyes closed as the world faded; His head lolled forwards and he lay very still.


	2. Shock

**Sorry my posts have been so sporadic lately, here's an extra long chapter to make up for it! "Buried" should be the one that gets updated next, unless I get sidetracked again... :)**

* * *

**Shock**

"You always stay out too late. You could be home by now, tucked up in bed, but no. You had to go out looking for freaking spawners." The young blonde man hit an overhanging branch in frustration, only to have it rebound and fly straight back in his face. "Notch damn it!" Wincing, he rubbed at the fresh welt under his eye, stinging and raw from the sharp blow.

There wasn't the faintest hint of light on the horizon now, no sign of the golden sun that always kept the mobs away. Trees, no more than slight outlines in the oppressive gloom, reached out to him with skeletal fingers as he brushed past them, the knotted bark twisted like the gaping mouths of the dead. Every slight shift in the tangled undergrowth set him on edge, tense, alert, all too aware of his iron sword's dwindling durability. It had seen a lot of action today; The man was a warrior by nature, not one inclined to run from a fight, so in a land riddled with mobs he tended to use up swords pretty quickly. Still, even with all his soldier's courage, it was always a daunting task to walk the country paths at night.

"For Aether's sake, get it together Ridan."

His shoulders had slumped over in exhaustion, back hunched, eyes drooping, doggedly straining to put one foot in front of the other. The last skeleton spawner he had destroyed had really taken the fight out of him. Ridan could still feel the sharp wrenching pain of the silver arrows entering his lower back; Thank Notch for healing potions.

The town wasn't too far away now, the uneven gravel pathway leading towards his home appearing in the darkness. More worryingly though, he could hear the telltale heavy footfall of mobs drawn in by the artificial lights and the tantalising smell of human flesh. No one else was going to dispose of them, Ridan supposed. At least they weren't too close to the town walls, so he could deal with the tiresome undead as quickly as possible then retire for a good night's rest.

He scanned his immediate surroundings with a practised eye, searching for hostiles hiding amongst the trees. Not for the first time, he wished he'd had the foresight to stash a couple of night vision potions in his inventory, but he hadn't planned on staying out after dusk. Next time, Ridan said to himself, he would be more prepared.

There. In the gloom, between the bowed birch trunks, a stooped figure lurked. Driven by no more than the basest of animalistic desires, with no higher brain function present, these mindless "zombies" only cared about one thing. Fresh meat.

Without further hesitation, the decaying corpse shambled forwards, arms out as if impatient to sate it's desires. Ridan calmly drew his sword once more, and severed the thing's spinal cord with one powerful swing. It's lifeless body fell to the earth, only to be replaced by another. He slammed his heavy boot into it's chest, toppling it over, then driving his blade straight through it's chest. A small spurt of semi-congealed blood dribbled fourth from the jagged laceration, causing Ridan to avert his eyes in disgust. A glint of silver sped past his face and he whirled to face a bleach-white skeleton, empty eye sockets brimming with malicious shadows. Ridan wasted no time in drawing a small dagger from his hip and slamming the point into the domed stretch of chipped skull.

"Damnit!" Ridan swore colourfully, trying and failing to retrieve his knife from the skeleton's forehead. What was wrong with him today? A simple strike with the hilt of his sword would have done, but now he'd lost his favourite dagger. He gazed sadly down at the worn, jeweled hilt for a little longer before movement in the obscurity distracted him. A female undead, white-skinned and pallid, face twisted into a venomous scowl, lurched forward on unsteady legs toward him, heedless of the blade he wielded. Ridan felt a small stab of pity for the pathetic creature, but all pity soon vanished when she lashed out at him with her long nails, scoring several deep scratches down his forearm.

"Son of a bitch!" He viciously lashed out at her stupid, dribbling face, rending her in two. His leather trousers were splashed with crimson, sword dripping red in the bleak half-light. Ridan bent over, and once again tried to remove his dagger from the skeleton's forehead, but it was stuck fast.

"Freaking mobs."

A warning hiss resounded from behind him, but he had no time to turn. Instinct took over; Forgetting his sword, Ridan covered his head with his arms as a powerful explosion threw him against a sturdy oak trunk. His focus was shot; He could hear nothing but a high-pitched whistle in his ears, could feel nothing except the rough bark against his back. Groggily, he managed to sit up, brushing the leaves from his hair. How could he have been so stupid? Turning his back like that - it was such a noobish mistake. At least the creeper's explosion seemed to have frightened off any other mobs nearby, as well as hurling him far away down a small decline.

Shakily, Ridan stood. He hadn't been thrown too far from the gravel path, but it would be a struggle to climb the embankment nonetheless. His first step was unsteady; reaching out a hand to support himself, his questing fingers met something warm and wet, running down the side of a tree. Blood. Was it his? After a quick check, Ridan was assured that it was not. But the mysterious liquid couldn't be from the mobs he had killed, as the battle had taken place several metres away and zombie blood was mostly congealed. They didn't bleed much, and definitely not like this. Curious, Ridan squinted into the half-light and made out a shaky trail of crimson leading off into the darkness. Had someone been injured out here? It was very possible, and Ridan briefly considered walking away and pretending he hadn't seen anything. But no, he couldn't. Whether it was his natural caring nature, or simply instinct to help another of his kind, he started to follow the trail deeper into the woods.

The line of blood didn't go far. Soon enough, Ridan came to a small freshly-collapsed crater in the earth, the result of weakened soil above a cave giving way. Sprawled out inside was a man, twisted, unconscious, chest heaving as he struggled to suck in a laboured breath. A single ragged, gruesome gash had almost torn his chest right open; the stranger was lying in a sick pool of his own blood. The injury didn't look like the work of mobs - it was too precise, too perfect. That could only mean one thing.

'He' was nearby.

Instinctively, Ridan crouched down closer to the ground, frantically looking around for any sign of the white-eyed man of legend. Strange. There was nothing - no mobs, no mad, sadistic laughter, no monster. Nothing.

Ridan made his way cautiously down the side of the cavity, ever wary of hidden traps or tricks. To his great surprise, the warrior reached the wounded man unscathed; Surely 'He' was close, so why would Herobrine pass up this great opportunity? And why was the stranger still alive?

"Well, I guess He's not around then…?" Careful of the wound, Ridan hoisted the man up onto his shoulder. As loath as he was to move anyone in this condition, he couldn't just leave the victim to die. Sighing, Ridan began the long trek back up the incline to the village, all the while looking out for roaming mobs. He prayed he would not run into any more tonight, as he was in no position to do battle now.

* * *

_They watched the blonde stranger pick their master up and turn towards the town, grunting slightly with the effort. It was… unexpected. They'd been ready to slay the human who'd dared to approach their leader, but it seemed the mortal's intentions had not been malicious after all. In fact, their master might even recover quicker in the creature's intelligent care._

_The mobs decided to do nothing._

_For now._

* * *

"What am I going to do with you, then?" Ridan asked the comatose man sprawled out on his spare bed. White bandages now adorned his torso, but thick crimson beads still seeped through and pooled on the floor. Ridan wasn't sure how the stranger was still alive, he had lost so much blood. He was curious as to how the man had gotten himself into this state, but his questions would have to wait until his guest woke up. Sighing, the blonde turned away and flipped a lever to turn out the lights, thinking to return in the morning check on the stranger's condition. Scratching at the fresh cuts on his arm, he went to leave, but-

"The Nether?" Ridan lived a little way away from the rest of the village, so no street lights shone through into his rooms. But when he turned the lights out, the bedroom was still slightly illuminated by a pale white glow. Where was it coming from? He frowned in confusion, turning back to the man on the bed.

The light was-

No-

Rushing back to the bedside, ridan reached a trembling hand towards the victim's face, peeling back one pale eyelid. What he saw made Ridan stagger back against the wooden wall in astonishment, hastily drawing his sword and leveling the tip at the motionless figure.

The eyeball, once again hidden beneath the lid, was a pure, glowing white.


	3. Brother

**Hello again! Sorry this chapter is so short - I had something planned for it, but it would seem rushed to just tack it onto the end. **

**I hope you enjoy this nonetheless!**

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**Brother**

Ridan stayed flat against that wall for what seemed like hours, staring fearfully at the demon stretched out on his spare bed. Any moment, he expected the being to suddenly vanish, or to launch an attack, or simply just to sit up and sneer at him with those awful, burning eyes. Just to catch even the slightest glimpse of them was a death sentence, or so it was said. And Ridan had certainly done just that. So why was he still alive? Was it a trick, some sick method of toying with him by faking vulnerability? Or was the white-eyed man actually hurt? Ridan's sword arm started to waver, aching from the strain of holding a weapon up for so long, so he cautiously lowered it while keeping a firm grip on the trusty blade. Now would be the ideal time for Herobrine to strike, but the being just lay there, his chest rising and falling slightly under his bloodstained shirt.

_What do I do? _

A bead of sweat ran down Ridan's temple; this was a situation he had never experienced before, and with good reason. After all, he had just rescued the mortally wounded king of the Nether, the terrifying bane of all Minecraftia, and possibly sealed his own fate in the process. The only logical thing to do would be to end him while he still had the chance, to take revenge for all the men, women and children, all the innocent lives the monster had carelessly taken. The point of Ridan's sword rested against the gentle curve of the unconscious man's throat; With one deft swipe, he could sever Herobrine's head completely. It would certainly be what he deserved - the man controlled the mobs that had terrorised and killed so many, not to mention the immeasurable destruction the being had brought about himself. Anyone else wouldn't hesitate to drive the final blow, but-

_No. I can't… I can't kill a man while he is sleeping. Even this man._

Ridan sighed. Lowering his weapon (though keeping it near him should the monster awake) he fetched a thick roll of bandages from the small wooden chest beside the bed. Simply winding them round the man's torso would not suffice though; He would have to try to peel the ragged material away from the hideous wound. Again he had doubts. Was he doing the right thing, saving this man's life? What if he woke up? Then again, what if he didn't?

He shuffled over, absently scratching at the deep scratches down his forearm from the zombie's nails, debating how to go about helping the unconscious being. Hesitantly, Ridan reached out a trembling hand, and poked Herobrine hard in the chest. He gave a little squeak of fright when the being groaned slightly in his sleep, but otherwise didn't wake up. More emboldened, the young warrior prodded his shoulder, relaxing when he received no conscious response. A lack of visual response didn't necessarily make it safe, though.

_Maybe I should just return him to the woods, and pretend I never saw anything._

No. Slowly, Ridan lifted the jagged folds of cloth away from the gash, grimacing at the grisly sight underneath. The five-centimetre-wide laceration pierced straight through Herobrine's chest; an injury like this would have killed a normal human. Ridan bent over, frowning in concentration at his task. Most of the material came away easily enough, but the garment was too tight to remove completely. He would have to cut the rest of it away, then bandage up the gash and pray to Notch that the makeshift fix worked. Ridan went to retrieve his knife from his hip, but soon remembered that he'd left it stuck in the skull of that damned skeleton he had faced, and so foolishly used his best weapon against. Sure, he had a spare, but that would mean leaving the room and Herobrine unattended. There was no other option though, and it didn't look like his 'guest' would be waking up any time soon.

Fetching the knife, Ridan took a moment in his bedroom to compose himself. Deep breaths. Eyes closed. The calming ritual slowed his pounding heart, but his hands still trembled at the thought of the deadly being in the room across from his. He was tempted to just stay there and check on Herobrine in the morning, but the man's condition would only get worse if Ridan didn't attend to it soon. He crossed the hall, apprehension evident in the tight slant of his shoulders, in the stiff tension in his back. The spare room door looked more forbidding than usual, dark oak wood wreathed in shadows. His hands shook even more as he pushed it open, harsh torchlight from the corridor spilling inside to reveal-

Nothing.

The previously occupied bed was now empty, the stained-red covers scattered across the ground. A candle was toppled over, it's wax solidifying on the cold wooden floor. Ridan instantly raised his sword up, frantically looking round for any sign of Herobrine. How could he have been so idiotic? To leave the most twisted, dangerous being to ever live alone in his house, that was… That was a sure-fire death sentence.

The warriors soft footfalls sounded painfully loud as he ventured further into the compact spare room, nerves on edge, scanning every darkened corner, every possible hiding place.

_How could I have been so stupid?_

A slight movement in the blackness stirred up a few of the small motes of grey dust that clung to every surface. Ridan tensed, terrified to move but afraid to stay put as well.

"Are you there? I - I don't want to hurt you, I just want to help…" Ridan trailed off, aware of the foolishness of his words. His clumsy reassurances would probably just anger Herobrine's pride more than if he had said nothing.

There. A shape in the corner, hunched over, no more than a slender silhouette. It was at that point Ridan realised that he'd left his sword beside the bed, and that it was now missing. It didn't take a genius to figure out where it had gone, though. The unidentified form wielded the iron blade in it's grasp, back bent, dark eyes narrowed in hostility.

_Wait… Dark eyes?_

"Who's there?" If it wasn't Herobrine lurking in the alcove, then who was it? The stranger seemed to be hefting something in his grasp, a limp form that the warrior guessed was Herobrine, still unconscious from his wounds. At least he hadn't woken up then, but who was the man holding him, resting the point of Ridan's own sword against the demon's neck? Ridan drew his spare knife and reached over, flicking on the lights.

"Hello, Ridan."

* * *

**Who is this mysterious man? Why does he have Ridan's sword pressed against Herobrine's throat?**

**For anyone who has already guessed, no spoilers please! :D**

**Don't forget to leave a review of you enjoyed!**


	4. Revenge

**It's here! I'm so excited! Well, there's no more cliffhanger now! Congrats to the people who guessed the visitor's identity, though!**

**...Oh God, you dudes are going to hate me though...**

* * *

**Revenge**

"_Hello, Ridan."_

The warrior froze in his tracks, mouth agape, desperately trying to make sense of the surreal scene playing out before him. Herobrine - limp and unconscious in the other figure's arms, the edge of Ridan's sword resting against his unprotected neck. The stranger - Hunched and scowling in the tightly coiled shadows, staring cooly at Ridan like he was the intruder. Like he was the stranger.

"Who… Who are you?" Ridan despised the stammer in his voice; he knew full well who the man was, he just didn't want to admit it.

"_You recognise me. I see it in your eyes - you can hide nothing from me Ridan." _The bemused fighter shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, incredibly uncomfortable under the harshness of that shining obsidian gaze. He almost wished that Herobrine would wake up, just so the man would have something else to focus his attentions on. Almost.

"Please, what do you want?" The bald figure only smirked in response, mocking the obvious and unnecessary question. He turned away - to him, the mortal was unimportant.

"_I want you to leave, mortal, so I may conclude my business here." _Ridan's eyes fell once again on Herobrine upturned face, peaceful and completely unaware of how close to death he was, how close Ridan's stolen blade was to his chin. The smart thing would be to obey, to just turn and walk away - after all, he had no power over a god - but once again his conscious prevented him.

"What are you going to do? Just kill him in his sleep?" No response. The blade rose a little, the bald man's grin widening in satisfaction. Just as he was about to bring it crashing down, however, Ridan's pale arm, still marred with the deep scratches from the female zombie, shot out and halted the sword's progress. He didn't know why he felt such a compulsion, a desperate need to save Herobrine's life, he just did.

He just did, and so the blade never fell.

The temperature in the room dropped sharply as Herobrine's brother raised his head and glared at Ridan's trembling form. The warrior shrank back under that terrifying, icy stare, fearful of what the god would do, what he was capable of doing.

"I- I'm sorry, I-"

With a speed no human possessed, Notch dropped Herobrine to the floor and pinned Ridan to the back wall by his throat, cracking the old cobblestone in the process. Ridan gasped as his head collided with the rough surface, darkness starting to eat at the corners of his vision as the hold was tightened.

"_You do not interfere in such matters, mortal! How dare you?!" _The god lowered his face to the other man's eye level, those awful black orbs boring into Ridan's own. The warrior saw no remorse in those eyes; to Notch, he was no more than an insect ready to be crushed.

"Please!" He couldn't breathe. He had to breathe. There was nothing Ridan could do to shift the powerful being off him though; he was far too weak in comparison.

"_You're lucky I don't kill you now for your insolence."_ Notch, scowling, released the blonde man from his grip and stood over him as he collapsed, struggling to take in a deep shuddering breath through his bruised windpipe. The pathetic creature seemed to be attempting to speak, judging by the tremor in his lips that wasn't induced by fear alone.

"You can't-"

"_Can't what? Rid the world of this abomination?" _Notch glanced back at the heap sprawled out across the floor. "_Free them from fear? You have no idea, isolated in your perfect little life, how much pain and despair this vile being has wrought upon us! How many parents have lost their children, how many children have lost their parents. At last, I have a chance to end the suffering. End this reign of darkness."_

The god's words were seductive; Ridan found his resolve weakening as he contemplated the meaning behind Notch's speech. Here was a chance - possibly a once-in-a-lifetime chance - to eliminate a huge proportion of the evil in the world. Who was he to prevent such an event? Who was he to deny Notch his vengeance?

No.

A death like that… It was undignified. It was wrong. The white-eyed being just looked so peaceful; Ridan could just picture him reclining under a tree and drifting off in the summer shade. The blonde warrior was a man with morals, and as such he could not stand by and do nothing. At the very least, he would try to ensure that Herobrine received the death he deserved; a fair chance.

"It's not right. Even a man such as Herobrine deserves better."

"_Why? Why does he deserve better? What good has my brother ever brought to us? What has he contributed to this world that isn't wreathed in evil? You, mortal, shouldn't have _any _reservations about my choice to end him now."_

Ridan sagged, staring at his distorted reflection in the spare knife he still held. Notch was clever; twisting the situation to his own benefit and shaking the blonde man's sense of honour in the process. But for all his tempting words, Ridan knew that Notch didn't care in the slightest for his creation's well being, and this brash act was not the result of him wanting to protect ordinary people.

It was simply an act of revenge.

And Ridan couldn't let it happen.

"You can't take this all out on him. So much has happened to this world without his intervention, evils that you could have easily prevented! We Minecraftians always try to pin the blame on someone, anyone, and ignore the darkness in ourselves. Even you, the almighty Notch, are trying to take the coward's way out. True, destroying Herobrine may be beneficial, but it isn't… It isn't right. Even with him gone, there would still be death. There would still be lies. There would still be fear. Nothing would change."

Finally, for the first time, the god looked apprehensive. Finally, the truth of what he was about to do had started to sink in. His brother. The boy he had grown up with, the boy he had saved countless times… The boy he had loved with all his heart and sworn to protect.

_Until the bitter end…_

For a few long moments he remained still, head bowed, hands clenched, eyes- were there tears in his eyes?

"_This is not… I need to… My brother cannot be allowed to live!"_

"Please, Notch. Everyone deserves a chance." Ridan maneuvered Herobrine back on to the bed, laying him gently down on his back. All the while, he kept a wary eye on the sword resting in the powerful god's grasp, but Notch made no move to attack. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, caught in some infuriating inner turmoil, so Ridan simply waited. The scratches down his arm felt raw and hot; they had probably become infected from the zombie's blood, but that was the least of his worries at the moment.

"Look at your brother. Look at him. It wouldn't be fair to strike him down now. Not when he needs you the most."

Notch leant on the side of the spare bed; Ridan had never thought someone so powerful could look so… weak. The god weighed the iron blade in his hand, taking deep, calming breaths.

Preparing himself.

Then he brought the blade crashing down.

* * *

**I'M SORRY! I COULDN'T RESIST! XD**

**Uhh... Leave a review?!**


	5. Awake

**New chapter! Sorry if this one is a little slow - I just needed to fill in some things. We'll be hearing someone else's POV in the next chapter (guess who!)**

* * *

**Awake**

* * *

Pain. That's all there was now. All there was in this tiny, suffocating world. Still, through the agony, Herobrine managed to hang on to one fragile thought.

_I am still alive._

By rights, he should be dead by now; even his superior body could not cope with such wounds, and yet he still lived. Paralysed by the pain. Paralysed by the desperate need for vengeance. Paralysed by the indignant outrage of being beaten by a mortal so hopelessly inferior. It was his own special kind of hell - only able to lie there, and regret not killing the boy when he had had the chance. Who knew where the being was now, what had become of his body after collapsing in the forest. The mobs would leave him alone, at least, but the humans… They would jump at the chance to end him while he was weak and defenceless, end him slowly and painfully. After all, it was no less than he deserved.

Time stretched on, worthless, meaningless, intangible, as the white-eyed being waited to die.

…

The blade came crashing down, straight through the downy mattress next to Herobrine's head. It's wielder growled in agonised frustration, black eyes flicking from Ridan's stunned form to Herobrine's unconscious one. Notch's shoulders heaved as despair took hold; he couldn't bring himself to do it, to commit that final, tragic act, even though it was - in his opinion - the noble thing to do.

"Ah, I knew there was still a loving brother in there," Ridan smiled hesitantly, secretly relieved that Notch's blow hadn't landed. "You did the right thing, Notch."

"_Don't lecture me, mortal," _The god snapped, wiping one hand across his forehead, "_He shall live a little longer, even if just to choose the method of his fate. Your interference has nothing to do with my choice."_

Ridan knew it would be unwise to injure Notch's pride by contradicting him, so he stayed silent with his eyes respectfully downcast. The warrior felt out of place, as if unworthy to witness the god's pain. After all, who was he? Just some mortal who had been unlucky enough to stumble over the wrong body.

Notch, sighing, turned his back on his younger brother's motionless form, leaving Ridan's slender iron sword embedded deep into the mattress. He made for the door, tread heavy, not even glancing back at the blonde man as he exited. But with Notch gone, Ridan would be left with-

"So that's it, you're going? What do I do? Are you just going to leave me alone with _him_?"

No reply. Ridan was becoming anxious; did Notch really expect him to-

"_Ridan," _The bald man finally spoke, his voice low and regretful.

"_Take… Take good care of my brother."_

* * *

There was nothing left to do now but wait. Periodically, Ridan would change Herobrine's bandages when they became stained red, but other than that menial task there was nothing else he could do to occupy himself. His food supplies were running low, as he never kept much, but he wouldn't dare leave Herobrine alone in his house; Ridan feared that if he did, there wouldn't be much left when he returned.

"What the Nether am I going to do with you then, eh?" He sighed, taking a hold of the hilt of his iron sword, still lodged deep into the bed frame. However hard Ridan strained, he was unable to pull it out - Notch had driven it there with such incredible force - and so the blade remained protruding out of the soft mattress. He was worried that Herobrine may injure himself on it if the being shifted in his sleep, but there was nothing Ridan could do about that, and Herobrine hadn't moved yet anyway.

Ridan sighed again, lifting a corner of his once pure-white sheets. The large bandages adorning Herobrine's torso were, once again, soaked with blood. It wasn't a pretty sight; although the wound did seem to be healing faster than normal, it was still a slow, tedious and probably pain-filled process. However, Ridan couldn't find it in himself to pity the white-eyed being. Not yet.

"Where are those stupid bandages?" The blonde man left his cramped spare room, on the hunt for more. The zombie scratches down his arm were stinging like crazy - he had washed them and bandaged them up, but he suspected they had become infected and would need to be seen to by someone professional. There was no time for that now, though.

"Damn it!" Ridan, infuriated, swore profusely as the last roll of bandages toppled off the shelf and rolled under his bed. He reached underneath, jarring his arm on the protruding bed frame in the process. Snatching the white roll up, Ridan stood a little too quickly and cracked his head against the sharp corner of his dresser. "For block's sake!"

Rubbing at the fresh bruises, Ridan returned to the spare room, and-

_Oh God, no._

…

The bed was empty. Again. Covers scattered, tangled around furniture. Ridan's sword was missing, the jagged slit in the mattress where it had resided all-too clearly visible. Fresh bloodstains adorned the floor, smudged and crusted, while a dark handprint on the bedside table provided clear evidence that Herobrine was conscious. At least he was still weakened, that much Ridan knew. If he had been at full strength, then…

Then Ridan would have been dead already.

"H-Hey Herobrine, I'm not going to hurt you," Ridan drew his dagger once again, just in case, but kept it hidden down by his side. He didn't want to provoke the being after all. " I just want to help."

_Maybe he's not here any more?_

_No. I can sense him._

It was true. A dark, malevolent force hung in the air, tinged with loss, pain and irrefutable hatred. The presence sent shivers down Ridan's spine, setting him on edge. Once again, he had let down his guard. Once again, he was in danger.

And Notch wasn't around to save him.

"You're just going to cause yourself more pain if you're up, you know. Come and lie back-"

A blade gently pressed against the base of Ridan's throat, coaxing a small bead of dark blood to the surface. The warrior's skin crawled, and the proximity of the deadly weapon froze him in place. There was nothing he could do but remain still, breath held, and wait for the inevitable.

_I'm going to die._

Not like this. He still had his knife on him, but when he went to reach for it a pale, slender wrist shot out and grabbed his, twisting the dagger out of his grasp and nearly breaking his hand in the process. A soft growl sounded from behind him; there was to be no fighting back.

"What- what do you want?!" No answer, but the low menacing snarl intensified as Herobrine pushed the sword edge a little deeper into Ridan's neck, a thin red line forming where it touched. The being obviously wasn't interested in chatting.

What hadn't Ridan been killed yet? And how could he break free? A thought sprung to mind - Herobrine, as powerful as he was, was still injured. Still wounded.

And those wounds were wide open.

Ridan gritted his teeth, then drove a hard elbow into Herobrine's gut, striking the jagged laceration piercing his chest. He heard a loud gasp of pain, deafening in the confined space, and the hold on him was loosened. The warrior wasted no time; whirling, he lashed out with one foot, tearing the gash open a little wider.

_All my hard work ruined._

The force of his kick made Ridan stumble back into a wall, reaching out a hand to steady himself. His arm still hurt like hell, but the scratches were nothing compared to Herobrine's gashes. And they were taking their toll.

Ridan caught a fleeting glimpse of those dreadful, burning white eyes, wide in sudden pain, before the being's legs gave out from under him and he crashed to the floor. Rivulets of crimson dripped from Ridan's chin and ran from Herobrine's newly-reopened wound. He lay face down, motionless, the sword clutched loosely in his hand. Face down in a spreading pool of his own blood.

_Oh Notch, did I kill him?_

No - surprisingly, the being was still alive. Before he could move, though, Ridan snatched the iron blade out of his grasp, warily holding it out in front of him to offer the warrior some degree of comfort. Slowly, painfully, Herobrine pushed himself up off the ground, face contorted, arms shaking as they struggled to bear his weight. Once again, Ridan found himself conflicted; did a being this powerful, this dangerous, this _indestructible_, really deserve to live? When would any human get a chance this good again to end the white-eyed mystery?

_I have a promise to keep, though. A promise to God._

Ridan still didn't lower his sword, though.

"I'm… I'm sorry I had to do that, Herobrine, but I'm not trying to kill you. Hell, you'd probably be dead by now if it wasn't for me, so-" Ridan was cut off by a cold glare from those terrifying blank eyes, eyes that seemed to bore into his very soul and draw out his most secret, hidden fears. Herobrine held that stare for a long time, the warrior feeling helplessly unable to look away. Unable to close his eyes. The temperature of the room seemed to chill, the torches placed strategically on the walls dimming and sputtering in protestation. The warrior saw shapes that were not there; terrible scenes of death and white-hot, greedy flames consuming both structures and humans alike. He heard the moans of the living, the screams of the dying, and the morbid whispers of the already dead. Covering his ears or closing his eyes did nothing. The dreadful, grotesque scenes persisted, a sickening splash of colours, as Ridan focused on Herobrine's face.

_Metal, twisted and blackened by callous forces of nature reached up into burnt, smoke-shrouded skies, and the ghastly facades of hundreds of empty villas shone through the dark like the pallid faces of the dead. Cities lay broken and buried, almost indistinguishable among the wreckage and the dust that coated the ground, a sick stain on the face of the Earth. Whole forests had died, their bark oozing with sickly, pus-filled scars. The peaceful lakes, transformed by one hideous event, smeared with toxic scum but otherwise dry as a sun-bleached skull._

_All of this…_

_Gone…_

Herobrine's eyes closed, his head drooped, and he started snoring into his sleeve.

* * *

**Well, dat was it! Leave a review if you enjoyed; they really mean a lot to me!**


	6. Speak

**Dear Notch, that took a long time! Thank you for your patience; it's been pretty hectic lately, and I haven't had time to write at all!**

**To make up for my absence, here's a pretty decent sized chapter. I must say, I'm kinda proud of this one!**

**One lil' update - I know how annoying it is to have to keep trawling through your "Alerts" section on the hunt for new chapters, so from now on, every time I post I will update my profile with the details about the story, chapter number, chapter name, and what chapter will be written next. Hope this makes it a little easier for y'all to see what I have uploaded!**

* * *

**Speak**

* * *

Soon he would be strong enough. Strong enough to rise from this filthy bed and crush the mortal that had so foolishly tried to 'help' him. As if any mere human would do that now, after everything he had done.

_He said it himself. He doesn't want to hurt you._

Of course the blonde wanted to hurt him; who would pass up a delicious opportunity like this? To finally, once and for all, eradicate the greatest terror stalking this world.

_There was no murderous intent in the warrior's eyes. You saw that._

As much as Herobrine hated to admit it, it was true. Hell, the guy had even bandaged him up, but for what purpose? What reason was there for the man to try and extend his life, as pointless as the menial gestures were? Maybe he was looking for a reward, or a congratulations - well Herobrine would be happy to disappoint him.

Gradually, the crushing darkness smothering him faded away, and the being felt as if he could move again. The healing process was taking longer than expected, though; that stupid child who's village he had destroyed must have been in the possession of a blade housing some pretty hefty enchantments. It didn't help that the blonde man had kicked him in the chest either, when all Herobrine had been trying to do was quietly attempting to end his life.

The room swam into focus as the fog shrouding Herobrine's vision cleared. A low wooden ceiling, barely two blocks high. A single chair and oak desk crammed into the tiny space beside the bed. Covers, ripped and bloodied, scattered across the floor. A woolen blanket half-heartedly tossed over his legs, which lay limp and motionless.

_I need to get up. I have to get up._

There was no sign of the blonde human which, in all honesty, made Herobrine glad. The mortal's absence meant that he was free to observe his surroundings, decide what to do at his own pace, and - most importantly - be able to let the pain show.

_I can't reveal any weakness when I am around humans. _

And the pain did show, too. It would be a long time before he was back at full strength, that was for sure. At least he didn't seem to be in any immediate danger.

_If that human tries to kill me while I'm awake, wounds or no, I'll snap his Notchdamned neck._

Sitting up proved to be a lot more difficult than anticipated, almost impossible in his condition, but Herobrine couldn't just lie back and do nothing. What if the mortal told someone about the demon helpless in his house; what if he told the whole village? The inhabitants wouldn't hesitate to come running, armed with whatever strange blunt objects they had liberated on the way.

_A man tried to beat me to death with a lampshade once. It was very satisfying to end him painfully with that same item._

His eyes tracked thin beams of light through the darkened surroundings, illuminating wherever the being looked. His gaze finally rested on his beloved emerald green hood, folded neatly over the bedpost nearest the door. If he could reclaim it, it might be possible to conceal his defining features once again and leave the settlement. Now half raised off the bed, Herobrine reached out one slender hand to grasp the cloak's corner-

"I don't think you're in any shape to go anywhere,"

Herobrine jerked his hand back, whipping his head round to face the blonde man staring cooly at him from the head end of the mattress.

_Had he been there the whole time? Man, he is quiet._

The being's shocked expression was quickly replaced by his customary cold sneer, revealing just enough teeth to make any mortal feel wary and uncomfortable. The blonde was no exception, it seemed; he wasn't able to hold the being's gaze for more than a couple of seconds before averting his eyes. Still, Herobrine admired his bravery - to look him in the eyes for even that long was no mean feat.

"There's, uh, no point in trying to leave. You'll just get yourself killed."

Ridan flinched as he spoke the words, as he realised they could be easily misinterpreted by the white-eyed being as a foolhardy attempt at intimidation, and that would not end well for him.

_Don't take that the wrong way. Please…_

The look of dark outrage upon Herobrine's face would have been comical if it wasn't so terrifying.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Ridan blurted, a bead of sweat running down his filthy brow, "You're just… In no shape to go anywhere right now, that's all." His grip on his iron sword tightened slightly in anticipation, but Herobrine said nothing.

Just sat there are stared at him with those eyes.

"You don't really talk much, huh." The blonde warrior was at a loss - what should he do? He certainly couldn't leave Herobrine alone, what with him being conscious and all, but he would have to leave the house sometime.

Sometime, he would have to leave Herobrine alone. And that would probably be the end of the village.

Unless…

"Look, I know how proud you are. You wouldn't want humans to see you in this condition. So, I'm going to make you a deal." Once again, Ridan flinched as those burning white eyes met his from across the room. "If you stay out of sight, don't murder anybody, and don't burn anything down, then I'll keep you hidden here until you heal up."

The being gaped slightly as his intelligent mind processed the words; that was unexpected. But why would the human offer such a deal? What was in it for him?

"I know what you're thinking, and if you won't talk then I will. I already saved your life, and in return I want you to leave this village alone. Besides, I have a promise to keep to someone important." When Ridan didn't elaborate, Herobrine creased his brow in confusion, a clear sign to go on, but the blonde just changed the subject. "Your bandages probably need changing now, by the way."

Herobrine looked down; sure enough, a dark crimson stain had blossomed across his chest. A roll of bandages was tentatively tossed in his direction, so he began to unwind the soiled ones wrapped tightly around him.

_Should I do this with the mortal around? I'm vulnerable - if he notices how badly I am injured…_

_Oh, to the Nether with it. He has already seen._

A small cough from the darkened side of the room.

"Do we have a deal?"

…

The silence that followed that short sentence was nearly unbearable. Ridan't didn't dare to make a sound, or even breathe in the stale air.

_He's thinking._

_Will he…?_

_What if he refuses?_

Finally, almost imperceptibly in the gloom, Herobrine nodded. A nod that was grudging and frustrated, but it was a nod nonetheless. He finished wrapping the new bandages around the wound, eyes tightening at the edges as he fought to conceal the pain. Evidently, the being was not as immortal as the legends had suggested. There were no records of him speaking either, so Ridan had no clue if he even could. Conversations would thus be very one-sided…

Once again, Ridan scratched at the zombie cuts down his arm, the slight noise immediately drawing Herobrine's attention. A brief flash of alarm crossed the white-eyed man's face, but the being hid it behind a mask of cold indifference, refusing to meet Ridan's eyes.

_Does he know something that I don't?_

_Of course he does. And it's not like he will tell me, either._

In fact, Herobrine _did_ know something. He knew that Ridan was in a lot more trouble than he realised. He knew that, without Herobrine's intervention, the warrior would shortly die.

For Herobrine had seen those kind of scratches before.

Infected scratches.

Scratches that, without Herobrine's healing ability, would slowly tear Ridan apart from the inside out. It was called the zombie virus, a hideous contagion that rotted flesh, warped bones, and destroyed any higher brain function, leaving the victim as a shambling, decaying half-dead monster.

There was only one cure, as Herobrine had designed the virus himself. Fresh blood.

_His_ blood.

…

Ridan had left. Left to procure the ridiculous amounts of sustenance that mortals so impractically required, and Herobrine had never needed. He had taken all of his weaponry with him, to keep it well out of Herobrine's reach. Not that it mattered.

Herobrine didn't need a weapon.

He clenched his fists, wishing his powers would return to him soon. They looked to be beyond his reach, as his body was still too damaged to sustain such amounts of energy. He felt strangely defenceless, even though - despite his weakened state - he was more than a match for any human who dared challenge him.

_Are you sure about that, though? I mean, you got taken down by a man you had a sword-point, and he didn't even have a proper sword._

Maybe it was for the best that Herobrine stayed for a while. Of course, it was nothing to do with that foolish "deal". No, Herobrine's decision was purely for his own gain.

_Maybe I'll torch this village when I am back to full strength, just to teach the mortal a lesson in trust._

With that convivial thought, a small spark leapt from the being's fingertips; although quickly extinguished by a draft, it's brief presence lightened Herobrine's spirits immensely. It was accompanied by a distinct wave of nausea, akin to the sensation he experienced when over-exerting himself, but it was magic nonetheless.

_I'm not completely powerless then._

There was another issue though - the infected cuts down Ridan's arm. It was evident that the mortal did not consider them to be anything serious, but unfortunately Herobrine knew otherwise. As he had personally overseen the creation of that particular disease, he could smell it a mile off. He had also made sure that the humans would have absolutely no chance of developing a cure, and thus they lost thousands of men and women each year to the affliction. It was Herobrine's greatest achievement, but now it was tainting the one mortal that could actually be of some use to him. Sure, Herobrine could heal Ridan, but then the humans would learn of the cure…

_It would make them even more desperate to track me down, and imprison me. Hell, they could even ask Notch to take care of me himself. _

_I'd stand no chance like this._

Herobrine snapped his head up as the front door to Ridan's house creaked open, but shut his eyes when the blonde trooped in. The human glanced down at him, at his apparently sleeping from, and sighed quietly.

"Night, then."

Herobrine waited until the sound of boots on carpet had completely faded away, then turned over.

"_Goodnight, Ridan."_

The mortal did not hear him.

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**Well, a certain blonde is in trouble. And Herobrine can speak? Who knew?**

**Shout-out to ATRpie (who's cover art I drew) for yet another amazing chapter that made me laugh out loud! Also to Deeptiger55, my grudging first beta-reading recipient! Thank you for bearing with me through all my computer illiteracy!**


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